All That's Left to Do is Touch
by laulupidu
Summary: They're sinking, like ships and suns and rollercoaster hearts. Brooke/Peyton one-shot


_1. so i hope i never see the ocean again_

There's a memory you have, it's not even really a memory, it's a picture in your head that you see sometimes when you're trying to sleep or stop thinking so much. You don't know where it came from, it didn't ever happen, and you've never been sure what to call it. It's just something that's always been there, an image of a girl standing at the end of a dock, watching a ship sail away, and there's a sky the color of dried blood, and the boat is just a sillhouette against the setting sun, and the water reflects it all as the most vivid shade of orange you've ever seen.

There's a storm just at the edge of the horizon. It makes you shiver

xxx

_2. where are you now when i need you?_

There's really only one thing you believe in these days, and that is that love hurts. You don't care if it's a total cliche, you don't care if it was Dawson or fucking Plato who said it first, you just know that it's true and it sucks. You were in love with Lucas, a little, and you think you're the only person who knows it. He wasn't perfect, but he was sweet and he was lovely and he made you feel like you were alive. Then he and Peyton happened, he and _Peyton_ happened, and since then you haven't been able to make things normal again. It's like reality has shifted, stretched a little, like a rubberband, and things won't be the same now. You do not know if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

Change does not really upset you. Nothing really upsets you. You go out and buy yourself lingerie and Chinese food and you feel okay again. Lucas bruised your heart, Peyton (fucking _Peyton!_) dug her little cat claws in, Lucas left Tree Hill, Peyton groveled, and a million other strange things happened, but none of it really hurt you. You only reacted the way you did because it's what was _expected_ of you, and you are simply too tired and too numb to find a different way of acting. So you were a bitch, yes, but you're fucking _Brooke Davis,_ it's your part to play. Everyone in this stupid town has a part, they're all actors and you know it and it gives you a little feeling of satisfaction when you realize that they have no idea.

But lately you aren't sure who you are anymore, you haven't been yourself. It's Lucas' fault, you think. He made you nice, he made you do that whole fucking "new leaf" thing, and now that you've done that you can't quite go back to being a bitch because being nice felt good, really, even though you'll never admit it. So you're stuck in the middle and the in-between-ness of it all is killing you because you've always been one for extremes. You're not sure of anything, really. Your future is wavering, and when you try to look ahead the picture is filtered and smoky, like looking through heat haze, or else it's brittle and cold and you think if you move it will shatter.

You've never been so unsure of yourself in your life, but roles are changing, people are changing, _everything_ is changing, and you have no control over anything now. This should not bother you. You should go out for Chinese and lingerie, but you can't because you don't have the money and you don't want to let anyone know. You've been quiet and sad and pretending you're okay ever since your mother told you about your father's business going belly-up and how they might have to sell the house, because it is the only thing that has touched you for a long time. You are nothing without money, you think, even if Peyton tells you differently.

xxx

_3. there's something that's invisible, there's some things you can't hide_

Peyton, goddamned Peyton. She's in your head all the time- you can't figure out why she's the only thing that keeps you going most days, can't figure out why you don't have the energy to hate her, can't figure out why you're so fascinated with her long skinny fingers and her thin thin wrists and the way she holds her shoulders when she's pretending not to notice that you're being horrible again.

You can't help being cruel to Peyton sometimes. Her eyes are so big and round and sad and sorry all the time, like she's wounded too deeply to be healed, and there's something about weakness that brings out the anger in you, and you love her, you think, you love her and you want to make her strong, but you don't know how and you've never been able to handle failure.

Peyton talks about Felix to distract you nowadays, because she thinks you need distraction, and she's got it in her head that you and he have some sort of dynamic, and you snort and think _yeah, right, sure._

You don't like Felix. You hate this new boy, hate that he's so cocky and _right,_ hate that he knows things about you that you've never told him. You wonder if you're really that easy to read and, _god_ you hope not, because then everyone would know how sad and broken you really are.

Peyton and Haley laughed when you blew up about Felix, laughed and said he is you in pants, and you think they are wrong, they have to be wrong because if you hate him that means you hate yourself, and you don't hate yourself, do you?

Sometimes you run out of answers and the questions just swirl around your head in little manic spurts, like kamikaze butterflies that smash and burst and crash behind your eyes so you are always delirious and can never sleep.

xxx

_4. a million miles of crooked smiles_

Peyton calls you one day, invites you to the mall, mentions a sale at Victioria's, and because you woke up with a massive headache to your parents yelling about money, you just rip into her, accuse her of trying to ruin your fragile financial situation by setting you up to blow money you don't have on things you want but don't really need, and you've lost it completely, you scream at her for so long that you have no idea what you're saying, but you're angry and you're bitter and you're tired of pretending to be okay because, goddamnit, you're having a crisis and you'd appreicate it if she acted like she cared.

It feels good to get the anger out, so you don't stop yelling until your voice stops working, and then you can hear Peyton's breath, all hitching and gasping, interrupted by chokes and hiccups, but before you can apologize, she says all watery and defeated, "Talk to me when you're done being a bitch" and hangs up.

This stings you and wounds you so you don't feel sorry at all anymore, because Peyton, of all people, should understand how stressed and irritable you are right now, but obviously she's not as great a friend as you thought because she hung up on you and called you a bitch. A bitch! Even though you've been so nice lately, in spite of your money problems, in spite of your constant annoyance with Felix, and Lucas being back, with his looming and his brooding, in spite of everything, you've been genuinely _nice._ But she has the nerve, the gall to call you a bitch. You could handle it if it were anyone else, but _Peyton!_ She's supposed to be your best friend.

Some best friend.

You don't call her.

She doesn't call you.

You avoid each other at school, you barely speak at cheerleading practice. You wonder when you'll get a smart-ass lecture about it from Haley, but then you remember she's married now, and probably doesn't have time for little squabbles between friends. It surprises you, then, when Haley pulls you aside at lunch and says "You were too hard on her, you know. She didn't deserve that."

You pretend to be interested in a blob of gum on the side of the gym. That particular shade of blue, you think, would look perfect on Peyton. Damn, Peyton. You're trying to stop thinking of her, and it's not working.

"You know I'm right, Brooke," Haley continues. "She puts up with more from you than a saint would."

You stare at your feet.

"You should apologize. I hate seeing her like this."

You scratch your calf, lazily, with the toe of your shoe.

"She loves you, you know," Haley says quietly.

You look at her then, briefly, but can't meet her eyes.

"Yeah, well," she says. "Think about it."

You lean against the lockers, feeling the cold metal against your back, and watch her walk away. And you think very hard.

xxx

_5. your mysterious eyes cannot help you_

You and Peyton have always argued a lot over stupid things, and you've argued over things that aren't stupid, things that prick your heart and leave you bleeding, but you forgive each other in the end, because you've been friends for years and that's just how it goes.

But this time it feels different, this time you may have hurt her more than she can take. Everyone has a breaking point, everyone's back cracks eventually, you think, but you never dreamed it would happen with you and Peyton. The dumb thing, the really dumb thing is that you were just pissed off and exasperated and taking it out on her, and you don't even know what you said to her, for chrissakes, so how are you supposed to apologize for this one?

And there's your pride, your stupid, petty pride, and it mandates that she be the first to attempt to reconcile, and when she doesn't, you resign yourself to the fact that you are out one best friend, and poor, and lonely.

You haven't been sleeping lately, you look like shit and you know it but you just. don't. care. and you don't know if you're more upset with Peyton or yourself, but you know that nothing will ever be the same. It will just be days and days of pretending to be happy that stretch on forever.

In the end, it takes you four days to recognize the pain in your chest as heartache, then two more to realize that the throbbing in your temples coincides with thoughts of Peyton, and another week and a half to figure out that you love her, because nothing that isn't love could hurt this much, could it?

You try to get her out of your head, but you can't because she's in your heart.

xxx

_6. i'm so tired of thinking about her again tonight_

At night you're alone in bed, and you're thinking about how you hate that you kissed her on Dare Night, but loved the way her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in surprise, loved how she jumped forward and giggled, how she slapped Felix's arm while you glared at him defiantly and both actions said _so there._ You didn't know why you hated kissing her until now, now that you understand you hated it because you loved it, hated it because it was a dare, and now you know that you want to kiss her when there are no excuses to be made.

You don't know, really, if you _love_ her, or if you're infatuated with her, or if it's a stupid adolescent girl-crush. All you know for sure is that you want her, and pride be damned, you will have her.

So you find yourself walking toward her house, one foot after the other, unable and perhaps a little unwilling to stop. You miss her, you love her (you think, you think you do), you want her, and you're at her door and opening it, god, you love how her house is always open, and you're walking up the stairs to her room. You've been here so many times and told her so many things in this place, but tonight it is foreign and familiar and you aren't sure what you're doing here, if you should be here, but you want to be here so you keep going.

You don't care that it's 3:00am, you just know that if you're ever going to sleep again it has to be with her because her stupid artsy neo-bohemian self, and her stupid fake blonde curls, and her stupid pretty little mouth are the only things that make you feel safe enough to dream.

xxx

_7. your fault, my fault, now i forget_

She's asleep, all sprawled out on the bed like she's trying to make up for the fact that she's the only one in it, and you want to touch her so badly, but you don't. You're afraid that waking her will bring this whole thing crashing down around your ears, so you just stand and stare for what feels like hours but is probably only seconds. You can't take this not feeling her, can't take not having her to hold and laugh with and cry to, can't understand why you're just standing there looking at her when this might be your only chance to make it all okay again.

You're thinking to yourself _this is it, this is the only chance i'll ever have, oh brooke please don't fuck it up again_ and you're crawling in bed next to her and you're pressing yourself to her side and you're breathing in the smell of her skin and her sweat and her shampoo and you're forgetting everything, everything she's ever done to hurt you because this. is. so. right. And you're about to sink into silence and sleep and you think maybe you're finally-

"Brooke?" Peyton's voice is thick with tiredness and confusion, and a little fear.

"Yes," you answer, and your voice is cracking because, for the first time, you don't know what's next.

"Brooke, why are you here? It's like, 3:00am." And Peyton wakes up a little more, and seems slightly less confused for a minute, and you're watching her face change from afraid to angry to shocked to you don't even know what, and she repeats your name, but this time it's _"Brooke?"_ like she's spitting it out, like she wants nothing to do with you, like maybe really have hurt her too much for her to forgive.

You know this is it, this is the point you can fix it all or ruin it forever, so you start speaking before she can say anything more. "Peyton, listen please, just don't say anything, I have to tell you all this, and if you talk I think maybe I won't be able to go on." You pause, collecting your thoughts for a minute, and Peyton does not speak, and everything you're feeling comes spilling out of your mouth in this rush of "I'm sorry, Peyton, I'm so sorry, I've missed you so much, and I've hated you so much, and I've loved you so much, and I haven't slept in weeks, Peyton, I haven't slept at all because when I do I have these nightmares and they're just black and falling and there's no one there, Peyton, there's no one there, I'm all alone and I can't stand being alone and it's taken losing you to make me realize that god, I love you, and that scares me so much, it scares me to tell you this, it scares me to feel it, I don't know what I'm going to do now, but I had to tell you, I had to say something because you're the only thing that makes me feel real and I am so lost without you, and just forgive me, because I forgave you, and I can't stand not being with you, I can't... I just can't do anything without you. Because I love you." And in the moment you say this, it somehow becomes almost tangible, like you could reach out and touch this feeling that perfumes the air with burgundy and violet and fear.

Peyton still says nothing, and your words are hanging in the air like fire and you can feel them eating away your skin and you're afraid so you sit up saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll just go" and your tears are hot on your cheeks and you're whole body is burning with shame, and you aren't sure if you'll ever be able to face her again, and you're thinking _i guess i messed up somewhere along the line, i guess now it's time to run_ because you've always had a problem with sticking around when your pride is at stake.

And you're about to bolt for the door, but Peyton grabs your arm before you can leave, pulls you down, whispers your name, says "Oh Brooke, I don't want you to go. I never want you to go."

xxx

_8. and suddenly we're in love with everything_

You don't know what to think or do or say, so you just let yourself sink into her, and she sits up, moves closer, runs her hands through your hair, and you lose yourself in the play of her fingers against your scalp, lose yourself in her legs pressed so tightly against yours. You want to say something, anything, but you can't because she's leaning over you, touching her lips lightly to your forehead, and you can feel your heartbeat now, in your chest, your stomach, your throat, your fingertips, as she pulls away, and you don't trust yourself to move or speak or breathe.

Peyton is looking at you with her big round eyes that aren't so sad and sorry anymore, but instead are full of something you can't begin to try to name. Then she whispers your name again and the blood roars in your ears, your heart hammers through your skin, and you know.

You reach up, wrap your arms around her neck, pull her face down to yours, and you kiss her.

And maybe you're still not sure, maybe there's a little doubt, but you find that you don't care whether it's a crush, or friendship, or love, because it's your lips on Peyton's, you kissing Peyton, Peyton kissing you, you and Peyton, you and _Peyton,_ and you figure that whatever this is, it doesn't really need a name now, because it's perfect.

xxx

_9. she burns like the sun and i can't look away_

Later, much later, you tell Peyton about your sunset and your girl and your ship, and she paints it for you, says it has inspired her. But when she finishes, you see she has changed it a little, has painted two girls leaning against each other with clasped hands, has painted the sky like fire and love and desire.

And there is no storm.

_End_

Credits:

1. Ani DiFranco, _Swim_

2. Radiohead, _The Bends_

3. Interpol, _Stella Was a Diver and She Was Always Down_

4. Violet Indiana, _Air Kissing_

5. PJ Harvey, _The Desperate Kingdom of Love_

6. Rachael Yamagata, _Worn Me Down_

7. Blonde Redhead, _Ego Maniac Kid_

8. Badly Drawn Boy, _The Shining_

9. Muse, _Sunburn_


End file.
